


You Look Good, Oliver

by jooliewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: (I don't know what to tag this), Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, what do you think?”</p><p>At the sound of Oliver’s voice, Connor stands as Oliver walks out of the dressing room, outfitted in a black tux and carrying a jacket.</p><p>
  <i>Fuck he’s gorgeous.</i>
</p><p>God bless his sister and her vow renewal ceremony and her brilliant idea to ask Oliver to be an usher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Look Good, Oliver

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr.  
> Hope you enjoy,  
> -Jules xoxo

“Well, what do you think?”

At the sound of Oliver’s voice, Connor tosses down the months-old magazine he’d been leafing through and looks up. He stands as Oliver walks out of the dressing room, outfitted in a black tux and carrying a jacket.

_Fuck he’s gorgeous._

The shirt and vest are fitted and show how perfectly Oliver’s strong shoulders taper down to a trim waist. The pants rest so cleanly on his hips that Connor just wants to grip right there and feel Oliver’s skin heat under the layers of cotton. Oliver walks past to a three-way mirror across the room and Connor’s given a perfect view of how well those pants frame Oliver’s ass. Oliver slips the jacket over his shoulders and buttons it and Connor is practically brought to his knees. Oliver like this, perfectly pressed and wrapped up in all of those clean lines, makes Connor just want to destroy him in the filthiest ways.

God bless his sister and her vow renewal ceremony and her brilliant idea to ask Oliver to be an usher.

“Pants are a little long,” Oliver comments, shaking them out a little, and Connor casually walks over.

“They can hem those,” Connor murmurs, standing a little off to the side. He knows he probably should offer some sort of actual critique on the getup but just can’t. Oliver looks too good and it’s brining all sorts of dangerous thoughts to his mind. He can’t trust himself to open his mouth without letting it slip that all he really wants to do is suck a mark right there at the collar where Oliver is currently tugging at the bowtie.

“Stupid thing won’t lay flat.” Oliver gives up fighting the tie with a frustrated sigh. “Told you I needed one of those clip ones.”

“You just need a little practice.” Connor reassures him and slips over the stand between Oliver and the mirror so he can reach up and untie it.

The air between them seems to sizzle a little as Connor reaches up to adjust the strap of cloth and retie the tie. Standing close enough to catch the hint of aftershave Oliver splashed on this morning and the coffee on his breath from breakfast, Connor feels Oliver’s gaze ghost over his cheek as his fingers keep ‘accidentally’ brushing the underside of Oliver’s chin.

He looks up, catches Oliver’s gaze, and neither of them look away. From this distance, Connor can see the ring of gold around Oliver’s dark irises and watches as those beautiful eyes darken further. They stand there for half a beat, with Connor’s hands brushing against Oliver’s neck and their chests almost close enough to touch, breathing each other in.

A noise from the shop just outside, the bell chiming as someone else walks in or the phone ringing, jolts them out of their trance. Finished adjusting the tie, Connor steps aside and Oliver turns a little to look at himself in the mirror.

Connor shifts behind him to tug the line of the coat a little cleaner in the shoulders and brushes a hand over Oliver’s shoulders and down his back. He finishes by giving a quick little tug to the bottom hem to pull the jacket right into place. “There,” Connor says, his tone a little breathless. “Perfect.”

While Oliver is otherwise occupied checking the fit of the tux, Connor catches a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror and, for a moment, ignores the fact that the salesman could come in at any moment and just allows himself to _want_.

Connor wants to wrap an arm around Oliver’s waist and pull the other man back, slotting their hips together so their bodies are flush. He wants to hook his chin on Oliver’s shoulder, nuzzle lightly under his ear and then nip at the bolt of Oliver’s jaw in that way that makes Oliver melt. He wants to mouth and suck and bite down the cord of that glorious neck until Oliver lets his head fall back on Connor’s shoulder in utter surrender.

Connor wants to unbutton the fitted vest, untuck that perfectly pristine shirt and run his hands up Oliver’s chest to pinch at his nipples until Oliver whines. He wants to run a hand through Oliver’s hair and pull Oliver’s head back up, whispering in his ear “Eyes forward, Ollie. I need you to watch for me.”

He wants to make Oliver watch as he unbuttons those pants that need hemming and slips out Oliver’s cock. “A little help, Oliver,” Connor would whisper and wait as Oliver’s hand shakily moved down his forearm to link his fingers with Connor’s. Eyes meeting Oliver’s in the mirror, Connor would whisper filth and praise and nonsense and love in Oliver’s ear as their joined fist slowly moved.

“Connor, please,” Oliver would eventually beg, his erection heavy and slick between their linked fingers.

“What do you need?” Connor’s voice would be patient and calm, saying nothing of the quickening of his own heartbeat and his own building arousal.

Oliver’s head would turn, his eyes a little frantic as they met Connor’s, his breath coming out in hot bursts that ghosted over Connor’s lips. “Please,” he would beg again, so prettily. “Please, Connor.”

“Come for me.” Connor would swallow down Oliver’s cry as he made a mess of himself and those perfectly black pants.

Connor just wants to make a glorious _wreck_ of him.

He catches Oliver’s gaze in the mirror and, for a second, Connor is terrified that he actually said some of that out loud. He knows he didn’t but Oliver’s gaze is dark and unreadable, almost aroused. Oliver looks like he knows everything running though Connor’s mind and is absolutely on board with all of it.

“You look good, Oliver.” Connor clears his throat when his voice breaks a little on Oliver’s name. “Really good. I think—I think that’s the one.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees and Connor wonders why on earth Oliver is breathless too. “I think you’re right. This should work.”

Their eyes catch again in the mirror and Connor tries to figure out how many weeks it is until his sister’s ceremony, how many days until he gets to see Oliver all perfect and pressed again.

It’s too many days. Too many days between now and then.

Not caring about the salespeople in the next room, Connor reaches down to take Oliver’s hand. Pulling him back to the dressing room and flipping the lock, Connor presses Oliver back against the door and knots his hands in Oliver’s hair. “It’s a really good look, Ollie,” Connor whispers against Oliver lips. Oliver just whines and tightens his fingers on Connor’s hips, pulling them closer together.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
